


we were one identity, now the trouble is remembering

by reachedthebitterend



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachedthebitterend/pseuds/reachedthebitterend
Summary: michael gets into a car accident and he loses his memory, but there's something about alex manes
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 9
Kudos: 208





	we were one identity, now the trouble is remembering

**Author's Note:**

> posted on tumblr on 03/16/20

There is something about Alex Manes that Michael can’t quite put his finger on.

The first time that he’d seen him, Michael remembers vividly, since it only happened three days ago, how bright and worried his big brown eyes were, and how he’d leaned in close and looked at Michael right in the eyes, almost like he could see right through him and had asked him, _“Are you okay, Guerin?”_

Michael had of course ruined everything then, by asking, _“Who’s Guerin?”_ since Isobel had only called him Michael, which was the only reason that he knew that that was his name.

Or at least he hoped it was his name.

Everyone kept calling him that, with the exception of Alex and Maria.

Maria who had told him that they were sort of dating, but had balked when he had asked if that meant that she was his girlfriend.

And Alex, who had told him that they were sort of friends, but had refused to look at him in the eyes since Kyle had pulled him aside and told him that Michael couldn’t remember anything.

Michael had felt that that was wrong.

There was something wrong with calling Alex his friend, but he couldn’t really put his finger on the why.

Right now, Michael sat on a stool in Liz’s lab, watching as Alex talked to both Liz and Kyle, pointing at a map on top of the lab table. He was dressed up in his military greens, and there was some small part of Michael that wanted to be scared at the sight of the uniform, but the rest of him was too busy trying to figure out why the tilt of Alex’s head and the way he kept clenching and unclenching his right fist was bothering him so badly.

Michael purses his mouth and reaches out absently with one hand, a move that almost seems automatic, and the stool beside Alex moves and bumps right into his right leg, and it makes him stumble a little.

Alex glares up at Michael, without hesitation, and Michael just shrugs in return, but he feels something sparking down the back of his neck, when Alex makes eye contact for the first time in three days.

He doesn’t know why he did that, but when Alex sits down, after making a show of the fact that he was fine, and stops clenching his hand or holding his head in an awkward angle, Michael feels relief go through him.

Michael doesn’t know what to make of the feeling, but it also makes something melancholy and sad go through him, almost like if he knew that Alex wouldn’t have done that if Michael remembered the kind of relationship they had before.

He shakes his head, trying to shake the feeling away, and concentrates on what they’re actually saying, trying to see if he could piece together anything other than what they’ve told him.

Liz says, “Okay, what about Alex-?”

And it’s almost like if someone yanks Michael backwards, and he gasps, eyes falling shut and he can hear Max’s voice perfectly clear in his head, _“What if it had been Alex Manes?”_ and an overwhelming feeling of shock, but more than that, it triggers a waterfall of memories, going backwards.

Liz telling him that she wanted to go, Max scoffing and walking away, Isobel’s wide and scared eyes as Max figures it out, Isobel telling him that she might not be able to do it again, him pushing Max backwards, _How could you do this to Isobel,_ keeping watch as Isobel stops Liz in the middle of the hall and tells her that she has to leave, now.

Michael feels almost like he falls back into his body, and when he opens his eyes, everyone is staring at him.

Michael’s eyes find Liz.

“We made you leave,” he blurts out.

Liz’s eyes go a little bit wide and she nods her head as she takes a step forward. “So you say, but I already told you, I would’ve gone anyway. I wanted to go.”

Michael nods his head a little because he does remember that, but the gap in his memories leave him with two very important questions.

One, what was so important that they needed Liz to leave Roswell?

And two, why had Max made that comparison?

-

Michael thinks that maybe he should talk to Max, but there is some part of him that seems reluctant to actually do that, so he goes to talk to Isobel instead.

Or at least he tries to.

It takes him three more days to actually get her alone.

Three days where the sight of a guitar makes him hear a disembodied, but distorted voice echoing in his head, saying, _Sometimes people can be nice for no reason_ , which cascades into him pushing a guitar into Alex’s hands with a feeling like heartbreak, him playing a guitar in what looks like a bar, Maria sitting across the room, him unzipping a guitar case and feeling for the first time elated at receiving a gift knowing there were no strings attached, Alex pulling a guitar out of his hands telling him that he can’t just take things from the music room, and lastly Michael with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth a guitar heavy in his lap as he concentrates on trying to get the chords right instead of the pang of hunger in the pit of his stomach.

Michael would think that Isobel is avoiding him, but she had taken a sabbatical from work earlier in the year and was apparently very busy.

She shows up at the Airstream, which everyone tells him is his home, but it doesn’t feel like home, even though it definitely looks like a place he would spend most of his time in.

Michael had heard her car pulling up, and had been sitting down on the stairs of the Airstream waiting for her.

She pulls a paper bag with an unfamiliar logo on it, and shakes it in his direction, also, holding a paper tray with two cups of coffee in her other hand.

“I brought bagels,” she says, closing her car door close with her hip.

Michael who had been getting to his feet falls back on his butt as he hears an echo of Isobel saying that same phrase, another time, and having this sick feeling permeating in the pit of his stomach like he just made a terrible realization, that he has to swallow down, and then he’s hit with another cascading waterfall of memories.

Starting with Alex scoffing and giving him a scathing look, _You may have forgotten but I still remember, vividly,_ Max telling him that he needs to stop looking back through his rearview mirror, Max asking him to tell him the truth about what actually happened to his hand, him laughing like he’s being scraped over hot coals, _The chupacabra fucked me up, Iz_ , his voice again, sounding younger, _I messed up Iz_ , an overwhelming amount of anger, and him pushing apart two blurry figures and then-

“ _Michael_!” Isobel yells in his face and it snaps him out of it.

He feels a throbbing in his left hand, like an old wound that never healed right, and looks at Isobel with wide eyes.

“We covered up her sister’s murder. That’s why we made her leave.”

Isobel exhales roughly and shakes her head, moving back, “Of course you remember that.”

Michael just gives her a slightly exasperated look, and Isobel sighs again and turns around before reaching out and dragging one of the lawn chairs closer, instead of walking the few feet over to get it.

She turns and sits back as it smoothly moves in place to catch her before she falls, and Michael feels reluctantly impressed.

She sighs, crossing her legs and leaning back. Michael only notices then that the bagels and coffee are right by his foot, and he moves to grab the two coffees, handing one to Isobel and making a face when he takes a sip of his.

“I’m still not sure about what actually happened,” Isobel tells him, looking at her cup of coffee instead of drinking it, tapping a random beat against the lid with her finger. “But from what I could recollect, and what you and Max have told me. Noah was obsessed with Rosa, and he possessed me in order to get closer to her, and when she started to pull away, he killed her because he was a manipulative obsessive asshole. You found us then, when Noah was letting her fall to the floor, and he left, making me fall unconscious.”

She takes a sip of her coffee then, and Michael tries really hard not to ask her who the hell is Noah, since it seems like this is a really heavy subject for her and he would hate to do anything to ruin the mood.

“I woke up later and found you and Max getting ready to cause the accident and you told me that you messed up and got into a real bad bar fight and lost control and killed them. I should’ve known better. I _did_ know better, but back then it was easier to believe that you had done it, than that there was something wrong with me. The three of us took care of the car, and then later on, we knew that if Max witnessed Liz grieving for much longer that he would break, so we made the choice. She wanted to leave, so I just pushed her to leave earlier than anyone expected, without telling anyone.”

She looks at him and then away.

“I didn’t know then that Max was actually in love with her, but I might’ve still done the same thing.”

She looks back at Michael, and rolls her eyes at the probably sympathetic look on his face.

“The past is in the past, and Max died bringing Rosa back so it’s not like-”

“Wait,” Michael says, holding a hand up. “Max _died_?”

Isobel just rolls her eyes again. “It’s not relevant right now which is why you weren’t told anything. Both Kyle and Liz say that the amnesia is most likely temporary. It’s been like a week. And from the way you’re going, I’m pretty sure you’ll remember everything in no time.”

Michael licks his lips and nods his head once, looking down at the coffee cup in his hands, and he moves his left hand, clenching and unclenching the fingers. They’re stiff and hurt, but it’s almost like a pain that he’s stuck into the back of his head and doesn’t really think about because it’s that constant.

He looks up at Isobel, who’s been staring at him staring at his hand, and she gives him a small shrug. “I don’t actually know what happened. You never told me the truth. Though I guess it does have to do something with Alex.”

Michael looks back at his hand, and wonders out of the two fighting figures that he had pulled apart, if Alex had been one of them.

“You should ask Max,” Isobel says, and Michael turns back to stare at her kind of in shock.

“Yeah, I know I said it has to do with Alex, but I think maybe you should postpone any conversations with Alex until you get your memories back.”

Michael furrows his brow at that. “Why?”

Isobel just shrugs noncommittally, “It’s not relevant right now, and you don’t have to listen to me if you really don’t want to, but it’s a friendly suggestion.”

Michael just decides to take it under consideration and takes another sip of his coffee, making a face until Isobel sighs in exaggeration, “Fine. That’s not your usual coffee order. I just wanted to make sure that your tastebuds were still tragic.”

Michael rolls his eyes and grabs the bag of bagels while Isobel starts to tell him about all the other foods that he eats that are just tragic.

Michael finds himself amused in spite of the subject and hopes that this is how they are all of the time.

-

Michael doesn’t really plan on talking to Max, or anyone else. Even though he’s buzzing with unanswered questions.

He gets the feeling that Alex will have the answers that he’s looking for, but he can’t get Isobel’s friendly suggestion out of his head.

She was right in the sense that it’s only been a week and Michael could still regain all of his memories any day now, and it’s not like he’s still a blank slate.

He remembers things. Things that seem to bring up more questions, but still, he doesn’t need all of the answers right at this second. Not when it also feels like the answers are going to be much more painful than he had expected when he woke up in the hospital not remembering who he was.

And then Max comes to visit him.

Michael is in the middle of finishing changing the oil on Mrs. Peters ancient Camaro when he shows up, leaning against the side of his jeep as he waits for Michael to finish up.

Work was something that Michael found that he could do without actually having to think too much about it, and it’s the only thing that he _can_ actually do without needing supervision. So he’s been spending a lot of time at the scrap yard, which he doesn’t actually think is a strange occurrence.

He slides out from underneath the car, and tugs the dirty rag hanging from his pocket to clean up his hands as he turns towards Max who pushes away from his jeep and walks towards Michael.

Michael stares at him as he walks closer and tries to see if he can make out any differences, but it’s not like he remembers much about Max before to know if he would be different now.

“You died?” He blurts out as Max opens his mouth to speak.

Max gives him a slightly incredulous look but nods his head once. “I got better.”

Michael lets out an involuntary stutter of laughter, which makes Max smile at him.

“Did Izzy send you?” Michael asks when all Max does is continue to look at him a little indulgently.

Max shakes his head giving him another incredulous look, “Isobel doesn’t send me anywhere.”

Michael raises an eyebrow at that. He may not have all of his memories but he knows that that is a lie.

“Okay, fine,” Max says. “But she didn’t send me here. She doesn’t have to send me here.”

He gives Michael a meaningful look at that and Michael just licks his lips mulling it over for a second before he speaks.

“Look,” he says, and Max straightens up like he understands that Michael has something important to say. “I know you know I don’t remember much, and what I do remember doesn’t really add up, but when I look at you, I feel strange like I’m so fucking pissed at you, but at the same time like I’m so relieved, but also kind of scared, and I don’t understand it, and it’s weird.”

Max just nods his head like he understands exactly what Michael is talking about even though Michael doesn’t understand it himself.

“There are things that happened, that we haven’t really talked about even with your memories. It’s not exactly easy to talk about some things, especially between the two of us.”

Michael gives him an appraising sort of look, and tilts his head to the side. “You know that that really doesn’t explain anything.”

Max just gives him a smile, “Yeah. I think there are some things better left to speak about when you get your memories back.”

Michael nods his head slightly, “I’ve been getting a lot of that lately.”

Max gives him a slightly confused look, and Michael just shrugs, before he licks his lips and speaks.

“Isobel told me to ask you about my hand, instead of going to Alex.”

“Ah,” Max says nodding his head, before he exhales and gives Michael a look, “Maybe we should sit down?”

Michael doesn’t think he likes where this conversation is going.

He just plants his feet where they’re standing and Max sighs like he was expecting that.

He just sighs and then looks at Michael, a sort of sympathetic expression on his face.

“You told me that Alex Manes’ father-”

Michael inhales sharply and staggers backwards into the Camaro, eyes falling shut as the words echo in his head in his own voice, _“Alex Manes’ father.”_

He vaguely hears Max calling out his name, but he’s too busy falling down a cascade of memories.

Alex is shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile and Michael feels a spike of fear and self loathing deep in his stomach, _Any Manes man would be as good as the other_ , him pushing Alex back and biting out words that he regrets as soon as they’re out of his mouth, but it’s already too late, him, standing across from Max and feeling like the world was falling apart all around him and he couldn’t find steady ground, Alex looking at him with confused eyes, _Why are you telling me all of this? I just told you my family has been hunting yours for generations_ , followed by his own voice caustic and sharp, _Finally a real Manes man_ , and finally Alex again, lying back in the back of Michael’s truck, looking up at the sky, _Join the Air Force. The only way to be a real Manes man, but I’ve never wanted that. I want more than that._

Michael drops back into the present like he’d been dropped from a great height, and he’s sitting on the floor, leaning back against the Camaro with Max hovering over him.

He looks at Max, blinking a few times and Max just tips his chin back and looks into his eyes like he actually knows anything about how to deal with the side effects of a head injury.

“Are you okay?” He asks, brow furrowed in concern.

Michael licks his lips a few times and just stares at him. “So Alex’s family has been hunting aliens ever since we crashed here?”

“Yes,” Max answers though he seems a bit reluctant to. “But Alex isn’t his family, and he’s been doing everything that he can to reverse his family’s legacy.”

Michael wants to protest that he doesn’t blame Alex for what his family has done, but he can still feel the memories that directly prove that he does, or at least he did.

But he also thinks that he wasn’t exactly acting like a rational person when he’d said those things.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, and Max just gives him a look like he doesn’t really believe him, but he just levers himself up to his feet, and then reaches down with a hand towards Michael.

Michael grabs it and lets Max pull him to his feet.

“I just don’t get it,” Michael admits after a few seconds of silence.

Max gives him a questioning look, and Michael can see that he wants him to elaborate, but Michael himself doesn’t really know how to explain it.

He just shakes his head and then remembers that there was something that he did want to ask.

“I remember you asking me, ‘what if it had been Alex Manes,’ after you found out what happened with Liz,” he states, and Max’s brow furrows even more in confusion like he doesn’t get what that has to do with anything.

Michael licks his lips. “You love Liz. I know you do even if I don’t remember actually knowing and finding out. It’s obvious every single time you look at her. So you love her, and you compared us sending her away to if Alex had been the one sent away, to make me understand how you feel, but why would you do that, when I don’t-I’m _not_ -”

Max’s confused look goes to knowing and then to a sympathetic look bordering on pity.

“I’m not in love with Alex, am I?” he asks, feeling his pulse jumping erratically as he says the words.

Max just licks his lips and then shrugs a little, “I don’t know.”

Michael just gives him an exasperated look.

“I really don’t,” Max says. “I mean, I think that you _were_ , but we never really talked about it. What you and Alex had was between the two of you, and the two of you are the only ones that know what actually happened.”

Michael processes that, nodding his head slightly, “What about Maria?”

Max gives him a nonplussed look. “ _What_ about Maria?”

Michael exhales roughly, reaching up to drag a hand through his hair. “Well, she told me that we’re dating, but she seems pretty close with Alex. If I was in love with Alex, like you say, then why would I be sort of dating one of his close friends?”

Max once again shrugs, “Like I said, whatever happened was between the two of you.”

Michael wonders how he’s supposed to figure all of this out when all of the signs point that he just needs to talk to Alex, but everyone else seems convinced that that is the last thing that he should do.

“But you also think that I should stay away from him until I get my memories back, don’t you?”

Max reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. “Alex has been through a lot. And you’re a little intense when you’re not trying to tone it down.”

Michael doesn’t really understand what that means, but he just sighs looking away.

“Why don’t you go talk to Maria,” he suggests, and Michael turns back to him with narrowed eyes. “Maybe talking to her will help clear some things up.”

-

The bar isn’t open, but when Michael pushes the door open, it opens easily.

He walks inside and spots Maria almost immediately, standing back behind the bar, a clipboard in her hands.

The door closes with a click behind him, and Maria looks up at the mirror set on the wall in front of her, and she freezes when she sees him, fingers tightening around the clipboard in her hands before she turns around to actually face him.

“Hello stranger,” she says in an airy voice, managing to sound both hopeful and trepidatious.

“Unfortunately,” Michael says, answering her unspoken question.

She bites down on her bottom lip, smile flickering at the edges as she looks down to the clipboard in her hands.

There’s something almost fragile about her in that moment, like it’s not the first time that someone who she cares about doesn’t remember who she is, and Michael wishes that he had better news for her.

She inhales deeply and then looks back up at Michael, and gives him a small but genuine smile, “Let me guess, you came by because you really need a drink?”

Michael shakes his head and then moves forward, walking closer to the bar as Maria sets the clipboard down and stares at him, maybe a little apprehensively.

“My head’s in enough of a mess as it is already,” he responds, and she nods her head at that.

“I can only imagine,” she tells him, leaning against the bar as he drops down into one of the stools.

Michael stares at her in silence for a moment while he tries to figure out how to ask what he wants to ask, and Maria starts to fidget after a few minutes.

“What?” she asks, straightening up and reaching up to mess with one of the necklaces around her neck.

Michael licks his lips, “You told me that we were sort of dating.”

Maria waits for a beat like she’s waiting for him to elaborate and when he doesn’t she just nods her head, “Yes. I did.”

“Why so ambiguous?” he asks, furrowing his brow. “Are we just friends with benefits? Or is there something else?”

Or someone else, Michael doesn’t say, someone like Alex.

Maria just sighs, folding her hands together in front of her on top of the bar, and she gives him a half smile, something sad and bittersweet in her gaze.

“We were on a break,” she tells him. “So many things have happened in the last year and we were trying to make it work, but something happened, I’m not sure what since you wouldn’t talk about it, but I knew that Alex knew and we got into a fight about that, because you never talk about what you and Alex get up to, and I know it’s not even remotely in the avenue of cheating on me since I know you would never do that, that Alex would never do that, but I hated that Alex knew and that I didn’t. Especially because it was something affecting you enough that you weren’t acting like yourself.”

She inhales deeply and looks away, while Michael tries to process that.

“So I gave you an ultimatum,” she continues, and Michael tilts his head at her furrowing his brow, but she continues looking off to the side, as though that conversation happened at the bar and she can see it playing out before her eyes. “And you told me that you needed to think about it.”

Michael reaches out and pushes his fingers against her shoulder, and she startles a little, turning back to face him.

She licks her lips at the look on his face, and inhales deeply before she gives him another small smile, “You called me on the night of the accident to tell me that we needed to talk, and I thought that you were going to tell me everything and that we were going to fix things, and then I got the phone call from Kyle telling me about the accident.”

Michael nods his head and tries to process that.

“I don’t remember any of that,” he admits to her, and Maria inhales sharply but nods back like she had expected that. “Random words seem to trigger memories that are associated, but they barely make sense in the grand scheme of things. They’re more confusing than anything.”

He doesn’t tell her that they’re mostly confusing because of Alex, but she just tilts her head at him, eyes narrowing a little before she’s moving her hands back to one of the necklaces around her neck and she’s pulling it over her head.

She holds the pendant in her hand, cupped in her palm so that Michael can see it. It’s a teardrop shape resin cast with a flower stuck inside of it. It shines in the low light of the bar and Michael feels a little riveted as he stares at it.

“My mom gave this to me a long time ago. She always told me that it was to protect me from evil. But it doesn’t mean that to me anymore. I lost it the first time that we had sex.”

Michael drags his eyes away from the pendant to look at Maria, who is staring at the pendant with a soft expression on her face.

“It was in the middle of the desert in Texas, and we were both drunk and high, and it was a mistake,” she says, voice fond even though the words aren’t really nice. “And not because I didn’t want it, but because I thought that it would have ruined everything, and in a way, it did, but not in the way that I thought it was going to. I was trying to push it all out of my mind and even more when I found out about Alex, but it was almost impossible. You found it and gave it back to me, and since then I can’t even look at it without thinking about you.”

She looks back up to him then and gives him a slightly hopeful smile, eyes shining a little bright, “Maybe it’ll help you remember.”

Maria holds her hand out and Michael does the same, and she tips her hand over and lets the necklace fall into his palm.

Michael moves his hand closer to his face, inspecting the pendant, and he smooths his thumb over the smooth surface, and inhales a little sharply as he hears that same distorted and echoey voice, thrumming through his head, yelling, _“That I loved you! And I think that you loved me!”_

Michael opens his eyes and looks into Maria’s eyes, so hopeful and bright, and he thinks that maybe the voice could belong to her, because the distortion could be hiding a female voice.

There was a part of him that hoped that maybe the voice was Alex’s, but maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if the voice belonged to Maria instead.

He licks his lips and looks back down at the pendant, and then back at her.

“Did you ever tell me that you loved me?” he asks because he needs to know.

Maria moves back, dropping suddenly like she’d been rising up on her toes in order to be closer to him, her face shutters in a way that seems vaguely familiar and she stares at him for a long moment before she holds her hand out.

Michael hands over the necklace automatically already knowing what her answer is going to be.

“No,” she says, sliding the necklace back over her neck, and tucking in beneath her shirt before she looks back at him, eyes impossibly sad. “But I think I might know who has.”

-

Maria tells him to go and talk to Alex, and Michael gets into his truck and thinks about doing everything else but that.

He just twists the key in the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot and just drives and drives and drives, without a real destination in mind.

Which is why it’s a surprise when he finds himself parking in front of a cabin, right behind a black SUV with an Air Force decal on the back window.

He doesn’t have to actually think too hard to realize that he’s at Alex’s place.

And it’s a slightly terrifying thought to realize that he drove here automatically, like it was something he did all of the time without even thinking about it.

Michael’s hand hovers over the keys and he debates whether or not to turn off the truck before Alex actually realizes that he’s out there.

He’s still not sure what to do when the only door that he can see opens up and out shoots a ball of brown and white fur.

Michael makes out that it’s a beagle before the dog is jumping up and leaning against his door, barking up a happy storm as they try to get to Michael through the car door.

Michael sees Alex then as he calls out, “Buffy! Come on! Let Michael get out!”

Michael stares as he grabs the dog by the collar and tugs her backwards.

She goes willingly, and then leans against his side heavily, tail wagging furiously as she waits impatiently for Michael to get out.

Michael looks back to Alex who is looking out across the trees, the wind blowing through the trees rustling the loose comfortable clothes he’s wearing and his hair, the sun making the ends shine dark gold.

He looks comfortable and warm and like the most beautiful thing that Michael has ever seen in his life.

There is something about Alex that makes Michael’s stomach clench, and his heart race, and his palms sweat, and his brain misfire synapses.

He knows, objectively, what attraction is, he feels it when he looks at Maria, she’s a gorgeous woman with an amazing body and a fun personality. He can see what he saw in her.

But when it comes to Alex it’s different, _more_.

And that terrifies him more than the thought that he might never get his memories back.

Michael could piece everything together. The fact that Rosa was a living breathing person and the fact that Max had died doing something dangerous hadn’t escaped his notice.

He loved Liz that much, so much that he sacrificed himself to bring her sister back.

It scared him to think that someone could have that much power over _him_.

He thinks about putting the truck in reverse and leaving, but then Alex turns to look back at him, and Michael turns the truck off with a flick of his fingers, leaving the keys in the ignition as he opens the door and slides out of the truck.

The dog, Buffy, which was what Alex had called her, moves away from Alex and bounds over to Michael, who automatically drops to his knee to accept slobbery kisses all over his face.

He pets her, and it feels familiar, the way he lights up inside with a feeling a lot like love, but much warmer than anything he’s ever felt before for anything or anyone.

He looks up to Alex, who has a small smile on his face as he stares at them.

"She missed you,” he says, smile widening just marginally.

Michael pats her on the side and gets up to his feet slowly, “So I guess I spend a lot of time around here, then.”

The smile falls from Alex’s face, “You mean you still don’t remember?”

He asks, completely shuttering down in a way that reminds Michael of how Maria backed away at the bar.

Michael just shakes his head.

Alex nods his head once, and then looks away, blinking a few times like he’s processing that, before he turns back to Michael.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asks and then turns around to head back inside before Michael can even answer. He leaves the door open behind him which is the only reason that Michael doesn’t immediately get back into his truck.

He looks down to Buffy who shares a look with him like he should know why Alex is acting like that.

Michael just sighs and follows the same path as Alex just hightailed a few seconds earlier.

He steps one foot inside of the cabin and stills almost immediately.

He can hear Alex in the small kitchen area just out of sight, but that’s not what makes him stall right at the entrance.

There was a sense of calm, almost like peaceful, that washed over him as soon as he stepped into the room.

He doesn’t know if it’s the smell of the place, like smoke and wood and pine and incense, the way it feels safe and warm, the way he feels at ease, at _home_ for the first time since he woke up in a hospital room surrounded by strangers who seem to know him.

Michael’s eyes skim over the decor, at the way it looks comfortable and warm, doing a double take when he sees the black cowboy hot sitting on top of the small dining room table.

He looks at the hat and tilts his head to the side. It does look familiar but Michael doesn’t think that Alex is the type to wear a cowboy hat.

He steps the rest of the way inside and after making sure that Buffy is inside, closes the door with an absentminded gesture as he walks towards the table.

He picks up the hat and twirls it between his hands, looking up and into Alex’s pensive eyes, mouth pursed like he was trying to figure out what exactly he was doing.

“Is this yours?” He asks, and Alex’s face does that shuttering thing again where it seems like he’s purging himself of all emotions, but his eyes are unhappy.

“No,” he says shortly. “It’s yours.”

Michael looks back down at the hat in his hands and thinks that that makes much more sense.

He places the hat on his head and looks back up at Alex who is staring at him with an unfathomable expression.

He turns around before Michael can ask him how it looks.

The smell of coffee starts to fill the air, and Michael takes the hat off his head and places it back on the table before he walks around the table to lean against the other side.

“You told me that we’re friends,” Michael says and he sees how Alex tenses and knows that he’s paying attention, but Alex doesn’t turn to face him.

“But that’s not all that we are,” Michael is certain of that at least, especially after talking to Maria.

Alex still doesn’t turn to face him.

Michael crosses his arms and pushes harder, “It would explain why I could get here without even thinking about it, but had to ask for directions to get to the WIld Pony.”

Alex exhales roughly at that, setting something down a little too hard, and then he turns towards Michael, a mug of coffee in each hand.

He holds one out towards Michael, not stepping any closer.

Michael doesn’t move but he focuses his gaze on the mug and pulls. Alex lets the mug go easily, making a low noise in protest as the liquid sloshes a little too much and leaves behind a trail of drops.

Michael reaches for the mug which is hot in his hands, and studies it. The mug is black with what looks like the faded print of the emoji that has the cowboy hat. There is a chip on one side and the handle looks like it’s been glued back on several times.

He looks back over to Alex, who is leaning back against the counter and sipping from his own mug that has the grumpy face emoji. He raises an eyebrow, and Alex just rolls his eyes a little.

“Rosa,” he says like that explains anything.

He doesn’t say anything else, so Michael takes a sip of his coffee, expecting, once again to hate it since he can’t seem to get it right, and apparently no one else knows.

It shouldn’t surprise him that Alex gets it exactly right.

He lowers the mug from his face and licks his lips, “You know how I take my coffee?”

Alex rolls his eyes again, sighing, “Yeah. You are in denial and think it takes less sugar. So obviously, even if you did remember, you wouldn’t get it right.”

Michael makes a face, “How much sugar is in this?”

Alex just hums noncommittally and takes a sip of his own coffee. 

Michael takes another sip of his coffee and just stares at Alex, who is looking out of the window and pretending not to notice, so Michael doesn’t bother to hide it.

He takes Alex in from the top of his head, dark hair still messy and pushed away from his forehead, the setting sunlight shining through the window making his eyes seem almost green, the length of his nose and the curve of his mouth, how his chest expanded as he breathed in and how the sleeves the short sleeved grey shirt he was wearing were straining against the muscles of his arms, the shape and length of his fingers wrapped around the coffee mug, the shape of his thighs, the way that Michael can tell that he must’ve put his prosthetic on in a hurry, all the way down to his sneakered feet and then back up.

Alex stays perfectly still, allowing the scrutiny and only moving to sip from his mug of coffee.

After a second, Alex turns to face him, mouth open, to say or ask something, but he stops short, staring at Michael with big eyes, almost like he wasn’t expecting Michael to be staring at him, when Michael knows that there is no way that he couldn’t tell.

Michael can’t even bring himself to look away right now that he’s caught. He still stares at Alex, eyes dropping to his mouth as Alex, licks his lips.

Alex inhales sharply, and Michael feels like if he steps closer and crowds Alex back into the counter that he would let him. He feels a need, visceral and sharp in the pit of his stomach to cross the space between them and fit their mouths together. He doesn’t remember kissing anyone, but he has a feeling that kissing Alex would ruin him for everyone else.

“Stop it,” Alex demands, sudden and sharp, and Michael startles a little, eyes darting up to his eyes.

Alex looks a little distraught, like he’s in pain, and his fingers are white around his coffee mug like he’s holding on too tightly.

“Stop what?” Michael asks feeling like he missed a step somewhere, but they haven’t even been talking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he says, giving Michael a look like he can’t believe that he has to explain this to Michael.

“Like what?” Michael asks back, feeling even more confused.

Alex sighs shaking his head and smiles a little self deprecating, “Like you never look away.”

Michael inhales sharply and he can feel the mug falling through his numb fingers, but it’s almost like a bomb went off right inside of his head, and it sends him reeling, unable to find steady ground.

He gets lost in the memories, going from Alex, who is staring at him, heaving breaths, button down shirt open all the way, a fading handprint right in the center of his chest as Michael says, _I never look away, and I’m going to prove it to you_ before he runs out of the cabin and into the rain, him turning and looking straight at Alex who looks a little startled at the eye contact, but softens a little in his gaze a soft smile on his face, before someone waves a hand in front of his face attracting his attention, the blaring sound of an alarm, a desperate feeling deep in the pit of his stomach and Alex heaving as he says, _I don’t look away, Guerin_ and the paralyzing fear that fills Michael at the words, Michael shaking his head as he looks at Alex, not believing that he could actually say something so stupid, I never look away, not really, Isobel shaking her head at him incredulously, _Is there really no one that you would risk everything to save?_ and then Alex’s eyes as Michael turns and looks right at him, Michael darting his eyes over to look at Alex even though he’s got a beautiful woman right in front of him, trying to keep his attention, Michael shouting in Alex’s face, _I don’t care about that! I care about you_ , and then Michael staring at Alex, feeling vulnerable and seen for the first time in his life, _And never with someone that I like, as much as I like you._

And just like that, every single thing falls back into place.

Michael remembers everything, vaguely, but most importantly, he remembers what happened with Alex that made him start acting strange.

Alex had died, and Michael had saved him.

Michael had saved him and realized that he was wasting time.

They could die at any moment and he was wasting time because he knew exactly what it was that he wanted, and he was tired of denying it because it would complicate things once again.

He hadn’t known how to tell Maria, so her giving him an ultimatum had been a godsend. He still needed to have an actual conversation with her, now that he knew exactly what it was that he was going to tell her that night, but at the moment he feels a little bit like his head is in too much of a mess to be any good to anyone.

“Guerin! Come on,” he hears Alex saying and finally feels the way that there are hands pressing against his chest, shaking him.

His eyes flutter open, and he sees Alex, leaning over him, eyes wide and wet and worried as he stares, inhaling deeply when he sees that Michael’s eyes are open. “Are you okay, Guerin?”

Michael just stares at him, and he remembers coming to see Alex that night, remembers how Alex had let him in, and how he’d unbuttoned his shirt to show him the fading handprint, and how he’d said that he could feel everything that Michael felt, and how it _hurt so much_ to know just how much Michael loved him, _still_ loved him, and yet it didn’t seem to matter.

Michael remembers telling him that it was the only thing that mattered, that he never looks away, and that he’s going to prove it, and then calling Maria as he got in the truck so that he could make things clear between them immediately so that he could ask Alex if they could try again.

He remembers how the only thought that was in his head as he drove through the rain was that after this things were going to be different. He just hadn’t realized how right he would be.

“Yeah,” he says, and he doesn’t know how Alex seems to _know_ , because he inhales sharply and looks at Michael with eyes too full of hope and longing. “Better now.”

Alex exhales carefully, and settles back down on his heels, hands still pressed to Michael’s chest, “Good.”

Michael looks at Alex and remembers thinking that there was something about him that was different from the others, something that Michael couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, and now staring at him as he lets Buffy move forward and nose against the side of Michael’s face, he realizes what it is.

Alex is different because he’s Michael’s person. He doesn’t really need to know anything else.

He moves then, sitting up and moving into Alex’s space, fitting his hands around the back of Alex’s neck and swallowing hard.

Alex doesn’t even seem to be breathing as he stares at Michael, seemingly waiting. The moment feels tense with anticipation, and Michael stretches it out a little, licking his lips and leaning in a bit closer.

“I didn’t, by the way,” he whispers, and Alex’s brow furrows like he doesn’t understand.

Michael leans in even closer, pressing their foreheads together and inhaling carefully as Alex exhales shakily.

“Look away,” he clarifies, and Alex seems to go even more still against him. “I never did.”

Alex just shakes his head closing his eyes, lips pressing together like he’s stopping himself from speaking, but it’s okay, Michael knows exactly what language Alex speaks.

He moves in closer, noses brushing, and Alex inhales sharply again, and Michael tilts his chin forward and kisses him, softly.

Alex shudders against him, making a low sound, almost like a sob at the back of his throat and he pushes in even closer, fingers dragging up the back of Michael’s neck and into his hair as he parts their lips and licks into Michael’s mouth, deepening the kiss and taking full control, and making sparks go off in Michael’s head, down the back of his neck to the tips of his fingers and toes, making him feel warm and heavy and _hungry_ and _desperate,_ almost like it’s been forever, because it has been.

Michael makes a low sound at the back of his throat, a whimper that makes Alex push and push until Michael is lying back against the floor again.

Michael wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders and loses himself in the kiss, thinking that he’d been right, Alex has already ruined him for anyone else. And he’s more than okay with that.


End file.
